


After Altair

by SnapeInDrag



Series: Between the Scenes [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Pon Farr, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-02
Updated: 2011-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 09:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnapeInDrag/pseuds/SnapeInDrag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock hasn't been the same since the events on Vulcan. Kirk tries to break through Spock's stupor. McCoy misinterprets events. Kirk is stuck trying to sort everything out while not allowing himself any leeway for human error.</p><p>Shenanigans ensue.</p><p>((Update: Revised text! Less Epithets! More Porn!))</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Altair

**Author's Note:**

> I do not claim that this particular piece of fiction is in any way a work of brilliance. It is made of pure cheese and smut. But then again, so was the show.
> 
> Everything is self-beta’d, so if you see a mistake, you can yell at me.
> 
> Chronologically this happens at some point after Amok Time. Use your imagination.
> 
> (Originally posted on KS Archive.)

 

The Enterprise and her crew arrived at Altair VI with only moments to spare before the new President’s coronation and were quickly maneuvered into position for the ceremonies. After all of the frantic worrying from Headquarters, everything had gone off without a hitch. Peace for this region of space finally seemed to be a possible reality. Starfleet, of course, received the public’s gratitude and respect for sending three of their best ships to show support of the positive progress on Altair. After all, they had even sent their flagship, along with its legendary captain and first officer.

 

The Enterprise had been ordered to stay only for as long as the inauguration and following festivities before she could ship out to continue her mission. Four days after docking at Altair VI, the pride of Starfleet was once again gliding through space.

 

An unrestrained, albeit quiet, sigh exuded from Captain James T. Kirk’s mouth only to fade into the normal rustling of a normal shift on the bridge. Even following the excitement and anxiety of the past few days, Kirk was not a fan of milk runs.

 

The events on Vulcan had left a lot of tension between himself and First Officer Spock. Hazel eyes darted over to the lean figure bent over the sensor read-outs of the science station. The half-Vulcan had hardly uttered a word since leaving sickbay after the koon-ut-kal-if-fee. McCoy told Jim not to worry, that Spock was most likely trying to sort through his ‘feelings’ so he could dismiss them as logic or some side effect of pon farr. Jim just needed to give him time.

 

Not having the constant presence of his friend at his side left Kirk with an ache in his gut, a loneliness that could not be filled by any number of the crew. Pulling his eyes away from the object of his thoughts, he tried to focus on the mostly empty viewscreen. The Captain knew he should give Spock the space he needed, and he wouldn’t press him, but _god_ he needed to be near him. Kirk’s eyes flicked up just in time to catch dark eyes gazing back. Again.

 

This had been going on for the past several days. He would catch Spock staring at him, eyebrows raised and eyes slightly vacant, like a man convinced he was seeing a mirage. McCoy had dismissed that too; said something along the lines of, “That pointy-eared Vulcan of yours is just suffering from a simple case of shock.” Still, it felt wrong to simply ignore his friend as he continued retreating further into himself.

 

Kirk snapped back to reality as the elevator doors whooshed open to reveal the first trickling of Beta shift. Standing and stretching, he relinquished the captain’s chair to the relief. A quick look to his right revealed that Spock was already halfway to the turbolift and determinedly using his long legs to pace ahead. The significantly shorter human nearly had to run to make it past the closing doors.

 

Jim quietly celebrated his small triumph with a beaming smile directed at the lift’s only other occupant. “Good evening, Spock.”

 

A small nod of acknowledgment followed by a terse, “Captain,” was the only response. “Deck five,” he intoned to the ship’s computer.

 

Kirk plowed on ahead with his impromptu plan, despite his first officer’s apathy. “Are you doing anything before dinner? I was thinking we could have a game or two of chess. I know we haven’t played in a while.”

 

“Thank you, Captain, however, I must decline. I find that I am unusually fatigued and require some time to meditate.”

 

The prompt rejection caused the captain to deflate a little. “Oh, I see.” Mentally shaking himself off, he pulled himself up taller. “It’s understandable considering the past few days we’ve had. We can do it another time.” Hazel eyes once again connected with those searching, almost desperate eyes.

 

Spock tore himself away from the captain’s gaze to glide out of the elevator doors onto deck five. He was only a foot away from the door to his personal quarters when he felt the warm hand on his shoulder. Spinning with lightning fast reflexes he came to face with this man he had come to know as a friend. Concern was written in Jim’s features, kindness echoing in his eyes.

 

“Spock, whatever it is, please know that you can talk to me.” Kirk let a tiny reassuring smile creep onto his lips. “I’ve always been here for you.” His unoccupied hand captured his first officer’s other shoulder. “I still am.” Slowly, Jim slid his hands off the Vulcan’s shoulders, down his biceps, and released his captive. “Whenever you’re ready… well, you know where I am. Get some rest, okay?” Stepping back, the human spun and made his way down the hall to his own room.

 

Spock was frozen to the spot until Jim was safely out of view. As gracefully as anyone could, he frantically scurried into the safety of his private quarters. With a thud, his back pressed against the doors as they closed behind him. “Jim…”

 

Down on that red-hot planet, he had been so sure he had witnessed the last breath leave his best friend. His heart turned to stone, his body to ice. After his un-Vulcan-like outburst in sickbay, he had begun to doubt his sanity. It was illogical, but he just couldn’t believe that Jim, _his_ Jim, was still alive. Obviously, he had gone mad with grief, and this was all a construct of his mind. That wasn’t actually _his_ Jim smiling. That wasn’t actually _his_ Jim walking around. That wasn’t actually _his_ Jim sharing those knowing glances. His Vulcan brain was simply trying to protect his fragile human heart from the reality of what he’d done.

 

Spock turned the facts over in his head, tallying the probability that he had lost his mind with grief against the probability that his hormone-fueled Vulcan strength had crushed the fragile human windpipe with the ahn-woon. He had to take a deep breath to center himself as images of red sand and a limp body swam through his head. Unwelcome feelings of disbelief, guilt, and anguish stirred with the memories. Spock had to admit to himself that perhaps his initial logic had been flawed. He had assumed that either both or neither outcomes were true.

 

Over the past several days, feeling the unrelenting shock of shame and sorrow, he had begun to think that he’d lost whatever tenuous control he’d ever had and spiraled into insanity. But perhaps he had been too quick to jump to conclusions. He had watched his best friend die— at his own hand. It wasn’t unheard of for even Vulcans to go into shock after a traumatic event.

 

Spock shook his head violently as his mind mockingly replayed the life slipping from Kirk’s eyes. It hurt too much to even hope it was all a ruse.

 

But he couldn’t deny that touch, that solid feeling of his hands, that eerie yet comforting warmth of his skin. That was _his_ Jim smiling. That was _his_ Jim walking around. That was _his_ Jim sharing those knowing glances. It was an odd sensation to finally be re-aligned with reality.

 

With a deep shuddering breath, Spock finally peeled himself from the door and staggered over to his bed. Collapsing onto the soft covers, he allowed himself to indulge in a single sob of relief; he would meditate later. “He’s alive,” he whispered to the empty room. “Jim is truly and genuinely still alive.” Spock finally released all of his tension into the air with an audible sigh and tried to relax into his newfound peace. It was only as the last shreds of shock faded from his body that the flames erupted.

 

\---------

 

Captain Kirk had only just stepped out of his boots and socks and was reaching for the hem of his shirt when the comm in his room went off. With a good-hearted groan, he plopped down at his desk and took the call.

 

“Ahhh, Captain. I’m glad ah got ye,” came the chief engineer’s voice through the speakers.

 

“What seems to be the problem, Scotty?”

 

“Well, ah wouldna call it a problem exactly. More of a peculiarity.” He hesitated.

 

“Go on Mr. Scott.”

 

“Ah was runnin’ a routine security systems check when the computer pinged on somethin’ out o’ the ordinary. It’s Mr. Spock’s room, sir. It looks like ‘e put it on emergency security lockdown. Now, ah know ‘e’s got every right to ‘is privacy, an’ ah wouldna think nothin’ of it if it weren’ for… sir, Mr. Spock made it so only someone wit’ a rank o’ admiral o’ higher can remove it.”

 

Kirk flinched inwardly at that. He’d made Spock uncomfortable with his offer of assistance. _I should have listened to McCoy and kept my damn mouth shut._ He kept a straight face despite his inner turmoil. “It’s quite alright Mr. Scott. He just doesn’t want anyone on the ship interrupting him, including me.” _Especially not me_ , his subconscious added.

 

“But, Captain, ‘e didna leave a code for ‘imself. Mr. Spock couldna get out even if ‘e wanted to.”

 

This made Jim’s back stiffen. Why would Spock lock himself in? And they were several days’ travel from anyone with a rank of admiral. Something was definitely not right. “Thank you, Scotty. Kirk out.”

 

“Aye, sir.”

 

His mind was racing. What could possibly make Spock lock himself away like that? Quickly punching up his first officer’s comm on the display he attempted to page his room. After several attempts went unanswered, Kirk’s panic ratcheted up a few more notches. “Damn it, Spock, why won’t you answer me?”

 

Standing, the captain franticly paced up and down his room, desperate for a course of action. When a thought occurred to him, he flew back to the comm and punched up sickbay. “Bones?!”

 

A couple seconds passed and Kirk was about to try again when the doctor replied. “Yeah, what is it, Jim?”

 

“Can you override an admiral’s security lock?”

 

There was a small pause followed by, “What?”

 

Exasperated, Kirk nearly yelled, “I said, can you override—”

 

McCoy interrupted him, “I heard you the first time, Jim; I’m not deaf. Yes, in a medical emergency, I can override any security lock unless it has been specified otherwise.”

 

A tiny rivulet of relief swept through the panicked officer. “I need you to declare a medical emergency and remove the lock on Spock’s personal quarters right away.”

 

McCoy arched a brow in perfect imitation of Spock and drawled, “Jim, I cannot, in good conscience, use a medical override without determining that there is, in fact, a medical emergency.”

 

Kirk gave McCoy a quick rundown of his conversation with Scotty and followed up with, “Do you really think I would ask you to do this if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary?”

 

A heavy sigh whooshed through the speakers. “Alright, I’m unlocking his room but there had better be something seriously wrong with that hobgoblin when I get up there.”

 

Kirk didn’t even bother saying goodbye as he shut off the comm and raced out of his room to the quarters next to his. As promised, the doors let him in upon request and he bolted in. “Spock?”

 

The burst of sweltering heat that usually greeted him at the door was absent from the room, replaced with air that was significantly cooler than the rest of the ship. The quarters were dark, only the dim automatic lights on. Was there something wrong with environmental controls?

 

As Jim’s eyes adjusted to the low light, he noticed a trail of discarded clothing leading up to the bathroom. Carefully approaching the door, he could hear the shower water running. Kirk was going to jump out an airlock if it turned out the man had just wanted a shower in peace.

 

“Spock?” he called inside. When there was no reply, he tentatively opened the door and peered inside. “Spock, are you okay?”

 

Captain James T. Kirk had known Spock for what felt like a lifetime. By now he could identify nearly every Spock mood, knew most of Spock’s quirks, had learned how to maneuver his way around everything that was Spock. But the sight before him left him completely dumbfounded. Spock sat on the shower floor under a spray of water, head in his hands. Clinging wetly to him were the clothes he had failed to strip from his body: his usual undershirt, underwear, and one sock.

 

Kirk rushed to his friend’s side and reached out a hand to his shoulder. The water splashed on his hand and he immediately pulled it back on impulse. A quick glance at the water temperature indicated only a handful of degrees above freezing; cold enough for even a Vulcan to suffer hypothermia. Slapping the water off, Kirk tried to think quickly on how to warm up his semi-conscious friend. Grabbing two large towels from the nearby rack, he threw one on the dry part of the bathroom floor and threw the other over his shoulder.

 

It was about this time that Kirk heard from over his shoulder, “What in the blue blazes is going on in here?”

 

The captain ignored his chief medical officer and began stripping the soaked clothing from the Vulcan. “Just help me get him warm and dry,” he barked. McCoy assisted him in moving the limp body to the towel on the floor and rubbing him down with the spare towel.

 

When Spock was dry, Kirk noticed that his own shirt had become drenched in the icy water and quickly discarded it. Wrapping his arms around Spock’s torso he was able to pull the man into a position easier for lifting. “Go pull down the sheets, we need to get him under some blankets.”

 

“Damn it Jim, you’re the captain, not a doctor.”

 

“NOW, Bones,” Kirk growled as he stood with Spock slung over his shoulders.

 

The doctor obeyed, grumbling and muttering under his breath, and scurried into the outer room. Kirk was not far behind and soon Spock was safely under the thick covers. Jim sat on the edge of the bed and simply watched the fluttering blue-grey eyelids of his first officer while McCoy ran his tricorder and pulled various items from his medkit.

 

“Jim, What exactly happened here?”

 

The captain’s shoulders visibly slumped and he shook his head. “I don’t know, Bones. I just found him like that, under the cold water. If it wasn’t for Scotty, I wouldn’t have—” He was cut off by a low moan from the being next to him. His attention was immediately focused on him. “Spock? Are you okay?”

 

Dark, bleary eyes snapped open and tried to focus on the source of the question. “Jim?” Long arms began pushing the covers away from his body. “No, no, Jim, you shouldn’t be here.” Spock tried to escape from the bed, only to be pinned by his commanding officer. “Please, let me go. So hot, so hot.” His chest pulled in a deep gasp of air, expanding until it looked as though it would burst. In a voice so quiet, it was nearly a hiss, he whispered, “Please go. I burn.”

 

Kirk looked to his old friend for some form of support only to see the familiar blue eyes wide and shocked. The doctor was staring at the medical tricorder in his hand. “I- I don’t know how to explain it! Far from hypothermic, he’s actually running a fever. His hormones are all out of whack.” McCoy swallowed hard and finally made eye contact with Kirk. “He’s… He’s still in pon farr.”

 

A sudden cold feeling washed over Kirk at those words, feeling much as though he’d stepped into earlier’s icy shower.

 

“Please, go!” A near sobbing plea escaped from behind proud lips. “I do not… I do not wish to be seen.” Spock pried himself from a majority of the blankets tangled about him. “Not like this.”

 

Spock had been in pain before, seemingly insurmountable pain. Kirk had sat by his bedside in sickbay and watched as this man held his mask in place despite the tortures wracking his body. But not this time. The carefully constructed walls of control were being violently ripped down by the fires of the plaktow. Kirk knew that this man that he cherished so much was suffering. And further more, he knew he was dying.

 

Kirk slowly stood from the bed, the ache in his chest clenching at his heart and blocking his airways. This was not a decision anyone could make lightly. But no matter how strong his convictions, no matter the promises he made to himself, he simply wasn’t strong enough to watch his best friend die a slow, agonizing death, not when he could help. Taking McCoy’s upper arm in hand, he practically dragged the protesting doctor to the cabin door.

 

“I can’t believe it, the shock must’ve suppressed the symptoms… Jim, we have got to get Spock back to Vulcan. Maybe there’s someone else, maybe something can be done.”

 

Jim shook his head sharply. “Even if we could make it to Vulcan in time — which we couldn’t, not even at top speeds — there is no one for him there.” With a final push, Kirk maneuvered McCoy out of the quarters and into the hallway. “Bones, you know I would do anything for him.” The captain stepped back just enough to be clear of the automatic doors.

 

Crystal blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What are you planning, Jim?”

 

“I can’t let him suffer.” Kirk took a deep breath and tried to give a reassuring smile, but he was sure it was more of a grimace. “I’ll try to end it quickly. Computer, activate emergency security lockdown.”

 

“Wait!” The doors slammed shut, effectively sealing the doctor outside.

 

“Deactivate emergency medical override.”

 

\---------

 

As soon as the computer chirruped in acknowledgment of his orders, Kirk released his held breath. “Sorry, Bones,” he murmured to the closed door. “But I can’t do this with you here.”

 

The figure on the bed groaned once again, drawing the captain’s eyes back to him. Spock had finally managed to kick the rest of the bed covers onto the floor and lay sprawled, exhausted. The Vulcan’s pale ivory skin was, in places, flushed a gentle green tone that would have made a human look sickly, but on him… it was indescribably enticing. As Jim approached the bed, he could tell Spock was growing hard and fighting it. Not that the stubbornly unemotional man would ever admit it, but he was scared of this, scared of what was happening, and still in so much pain.

 

“Spock?”

 

Dilated, near-black eyes snapped opened to see the man standing by his bed. “J-Jim?” He groaned. “No, I thought you had gone.” His half-lidded eyes drifted down his front to behold what was now a full-fledged erection. When his brain finally processed this, Spock moaned and rolled to his side, attempting to hide, turning his back to the captain. “Please go, I am naked in every sense of the word.”

 

A small grim smile crossed Kirk’s face; he was quite certain that Spock did indeed know every meaning of the word, and even in a situation like this, Spock was trying to remain eloquent. Sitting down on the bed, he said, “I’m not going to just leave, so stop asking.” He rested his hand on the Vulcan’s shoulder. “Out of everyone I’ve ever known, you are the last person who deserves to suffer a slow, painful death.”

 

The silence stretched thin between them before an infinitesimally small slump in Spock’s shoulders indicated his surrender. “Shower.” Another groan, this time accompanied by a shiver, rippled through his body. “I… don’t think I can walk.”

 

Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remain patient. “Spock, I am not going to help you freeze yourself to death.”

 

There was another moment of silence as the half-Vulcan processed. “Hypothermia… not so terrible… way to go…” he panted. “But just want cold… I burn.” He paused as another shudder wracked his body. “ _Please_.”

 

Spock shook his head hard as though trying to shake out whatever was muddling his thoughts. He turned enough to make eye contact, and said with more clarity than he’d managed so far, “If not the shower… you must… be prepared… In the end… please… Euthanasia… far kinder… than _this_ …”

 

“Oh for the love of— Spock, I will not let you die, much less assist in your suicide!”

 

Angled eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How… can you help?”

 

It was truly puzzling how Spock, filled with the amount of knowledge that he was, could be so painfully _dense_. Kirk knew time was running short; maybe this was one of those times where explanation had to take a back seat to action. Slowly, Jim slid himself down onto the bed to cup his body around the backside of his first officer. The hand that rested on Spock’s shoulder maneuvered to entangle itself into the Vulcan’s wiry chest hair, his arm acting as a brace to keep the man pinned to the spot. “Spock, I know you are intelligent enough to understand what I am offering.”

 

For a moment, the half-Vulcan went as stiff and still as stone. Then, he began to vibrate harder than a taut wire that had been plucked. “Jim! I—” He tried to pull away, but in his exhaustion, it was pointless. “Captain, I cannot accept.” His voiced hitched as he choked back a whimper. “I will not, can not, just use you—”

 

“Spock,” the captain cut in. He rested his forehead on the nape of his friend’s neck and murmured, “Let me help.”

 

Those three little words were the final undoing of Spock’s control. It took only a moment for the two men to be chest to chest and only a second longer for their lips to press together. Both of Spock’s hands were busy, one capturing Jim’s left hand and entwining their fingers, the other settling into place for a mind meld. The frantic psionic flare quickly faded into more of a background hum as Spock’s hand slid away from the meld points.

 

Kirk pulled away from insistent lips just a fraction to whisper, “Tell me what you need.” Another kiss. “Don’t hold back on my account.”

 

“I need… your mind… and…” Spock struggled to explain further, before proverbially diving into the mental link. The meld was flooded with his needs, vividly communicating his wishes to Kirk. Spock’s consciousness retreated almost immediately in — could it be? — embarrassment?

 

Kirk nodded in understanding. He knew his friend felt shame admitting his need for simple physical contact, even in a non-sexual sense. Pon farr was literally Spock’s living hell. Capturing the flushed lips of the Vulcan once more, Kirk deepened the kiss to distract him from where his fingers were trailing. Down the chest, a thumb gently brushing a sensitive nipple, across the ribs, circling the flat expanse of his abdomen, and finally grasping the aching erection.

 

Spock shuddered and gasped, pressing himself closer to the man he trusted with every fiber of his being.

 

Over the light meld, Jim could feel that tiny touch transform Spock’s pain into a pleasant lustful ache. Experimentally running his fingers up and down the rigid shaft, he marveled at how the mental feedback could tell him exactly what felt best for the Vulcan, without actually _feeling_ the sensations themselves. With a smirk, Kirk swept a finger across the head of Spock’s surprisingly human-like cock, smearing the slick pre-come down the straining member.

 

Spock moaned and arched into the hand that was pumping him. “Oh, oh, Jim.” He gulped down huge breaths of air. “Oh, please. Do not stop. _Please._ ”

 

“Shh, it’s okay,” the captain murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.” This time, Kirk pressed his lips reassuringly to one furrowed brow. “I would never leave you like this.” He increased the speed of his strokes and gripped a fraction tighter. The green-flushed cock in his hand practically pulsed. The shudders and sounds from the man in his arms told Jim that he was close. It had long passed difficult for Kirk to remain clinically observant of the situation, and it was all he could do to prevent Spock from accidentally feeling his echoing erection.

 

With a cry, the Vulcan’s back arched, pressing his stomach to Jim’s, and came hard into the captain’s awaiting hand. Kirk waited for the shudders wracking his friend’s body to subside as the surprisingly small amount of hot liquid pooled in his palm. Pure curiosity urged him to taste it, but he restrained himself; it was probably best to avoid anything that would royally freak out Spock… more.

 

Jim noted the sticky splatter he had failed to contain in his hand. Whatever Spock’s semen lacked in volume, it seemed to make up for in velocity. “I’ll go get something to clean up a bit, alright?” At Spock’s sleepy nod, he placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before rolling out of bed.

 

Kirk returned momentarily with clean hands and a warm wet washcloth to wipe down the spent Vulcan. It was only as he finished that he noticed the returning erection. “Spock?”

 

Glassy eyes looked down and away, a green tint coloring the tips of his ears and cheeks.

 

Looking for a way to phrase it gently, Jim asked, “Do you still burn?”

 

A tiny nod was the reply.

 

“M-hmm…” Kirk knelt down on the end of bed and settled himself cross-legged between Spock’s spread thighs. The Vulcan’s legs lay limply on either side of him until Jim wrapped his hand around the nearly full erection. At the barest hint of touch, Spock’s muscles clenched and Jim felt as though he might as well have had bands of steel wrapped around him.

 

Though he tried to make it quick, Jim silently reveled in every cry he wrung out of his first officer. It was with bittersweet longing that he took in every detail this vantage provided, trying to burn the images into his mind to console himself with later. It wasn’t long before Spock was arching into the air, his balls pulling tight against his body, as he screamed through another release.

 

When the metaphorical bands of steel holding him down melted back into putty, Kirk slid off the bed to go refresh the washcloth. When he returned moments later, it was to a completely renewed erection.

 

The captain sighed and pulled a sheet up over his first officer, a crinkle of thought between his eyebrows. “Spock, I’ll be right back.”

 

A hand shot out from beneath the sheet and grabbed Kirk’s hand. A shielded look of hurt brewed deep in the gentle eyes and, though Spock’s lips didn’t move, Jim could’ve sworn he heard, “You promised you would not leave.”

 

Grasping the Vulcan’s hand with both of his, he tried to give his most reassuring smile. “I have to grab a few things from my quarters, I’ll only be a minute.” He offered two fingers to the outstretched hand, a Vulcan gesture he had glimpsed in the meld. “I promise.”

 

Long, elegant index and middle fingers touched to those proffered for a moment before slowly pulling away.

 

\---------

 

The scene that greeted the Captain as he exited into the corridor was one of chaos. Scotty was trying to cut through the bulkhead with a phaser, McCoy was pacing around the hall, and a small security team was standing by. Slipping by unnoticed would have been impossible even if the doctor had not been so quick to spot him.

 

“JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK,” roared McCoy. It took only a moment for his friend to pin him to the wall by his shoulders. Fury burned in his eyes as he barked out, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

Kirk had half a mind to be thankful his friend’s position blocked the view of his somewhat obvious half-hard erection, but confusion was still written all over his face as he glanced around the collected group. The murderous eyes of McCoy were trying to bore holes into him, a bewildered Scotty had ceased his efforts and now clutched the phaser to his chest, and the security team had their weapons drawn and pointed at him. “Bones, wh—?”

 

The deep growl interrupted, “What took so long? Did you actually hesitate to end it? Or did you have to stick around to clean up after?”

 

Jim’s eyes went wide and he spluttered.

 

“You cold hearted son-of-a-bitch. He trusted you!”

 

Kirk only a managed a weak, “Wait, what?”

 

“I used to think you couldn’t.” McCoy snorted. “But I know you’d do anything he asked, you said so yourself.”

 

“Whoa, wait a minute, back up. Couldn’t _what_?”

 

“Hurt Spock,” McCoy spat, like it was obvious. “But then you volunteer to off him like it’s something you do everyday—”

 

Kirk’s jaw hung open in disbelief of the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth. “I wouldn’t… I _didn’t_ kill him.”

 

“Really? ‘Cause last I saw, your little Vulcan was turning suicidal and you seemed intent on putting him out of his misery.”

 

At this, Kirk clapped a hand tightly over McCoy’s mouth, a little more forcefully than necessary. “Look,” he hissed. “I don’t have _time_ for this. We can discuss this in as much detail as you want later, but I won’t let you publicly embarrass Spock.” The look in his eyes shifted to one of pleading. Taking on a lighter tone, he added, “Until then, you’ll just have to trust me.”

 

With his hand still over the doctor’s mouth, he turned to the four other men and, trying to be as sincere as he could, said, “I’m sorry for this whole misunderstanding, you can return to your respective duties now.”

 

No one moved at first, but at a small nod and, “Mmph,” from Dr. McCoy, the security team holstered their phasers and retreated.

 

Mr. Scott, however, stood his ground. “Captain, ye cannae expect me ta believe tha’ this was just a misundastandin’. Dr. McCoy called us up ‘ere all a hollerin’ that ye’d gone mad and were tryin’ a kill Mr. Spock. Is Mr. Spock alright?”

 

Kirk sighed and relinquished his hold on McCoy’s mouth. “You’re quite right Mr. Scott, there is something wrong.” He paused for a moment, trying to think of a way to explain the situation without betraying the Vulcan’s confidences. “First Officer Spock is… ill, very ill. Dr. McCoy and I have different views on how to ensure his recovery, hence the locked doors and yelling.”

 

Scotty’s face screwed up in a mixed expression of confusion and concern. “No offense, Captain, but ‘e is tha doctor. Shouldn’t ya listen to ‘im?”

 

“You know how private of a person Mr. Spock is. He would prefer to recover in the comfort of his own quarters.” Jim held up his hand to stop the Scotsman from interrupting again. “He’s getting all the care he needs. In fact, more so than he would be able to in sickbay. I’m making sure of that.”

 

Mr. Scott still looked skeptical and completely baffled but had the good grace to back off. “I s’pose as long as ‘e’ll be alright, I’ll let tha two of ye to your quarrel.”

 

“Thank you, Scotty.”

 

Kirk waited until the chief engineer had rounded the corner before turning on his heel and speeding towards his room.

 

McCoy spluttered at the sudden escape. “Now wait just a minute, Jim.”

 

“Walk and talk Bones or don’t talk at all,” Kirk said over his shoulder.

 

Darting into his quarters, Kirk set about collecting the few things he had come to get. He already had a few bottles of Altair water tucked under his arm by the time the doors whooshed open to allow the doctor entrance.

 

“Jim, I don’t know what hocus-pocus miracle cure you think you’ve cooked up, but it isn’t going to work. The best chance Spock’s got is if you turn this ship around right now and hightail it to Vulcan.”

 

Kirk rolled his eyes and continued searching his various drawers. “Bones, we’ve already been over this. Going to Vulcan would solve nothing.” He pulled open yet another drawer, only to come up empty. “Where the hell did I put it?” he muttered to himself.

 

“Put what?”

 

Jim pulled open yet another drawer. “ _Whup_ , never mind, found it.” He reached in and pulled the little tube out of the drawer, double checking the label before tucking it into his back pocket.

 

“Found what?” the doctor asked, this time more irritated.

 

“Not now, Bones.” Kirk pushed past McCoy, headed towards the door.

 

With the deftness of a surgeon’s hands, McCoy snatched the small tube out of Kirk’s pocket and backed away several steps. He indulged in a small triumphant crow before flipping over the container and reading the label. He froze in his tracks. “Well, now I just feel like the biggest jackass this side of the galaxy.”

 

Hazel eyes stared hard into blue ones. Even half-naked, Kirk could still manage a damn fine Captainy glare of death.

 

“Well, I’ll be,” he drawled. “I’m sorry, Jim.” McCoy hung his head, keeping his eyes focused down on his feet. “I was too busy thinking about all those damned Vulcan rituals, I never just stopped and thought about it… logically.” The silence spanned between the two friends.

 

“Bones.” Kirk waited a moment, but blue eyes remained glued to the floor. “Bones,” he repeated, his tone more stern. McCoy reluctantly looked up. “I’m going to need that back.”

 

“Oh… right…” The CMO flushed and held out the tube of lubricant in his palm.

 

Kirk snatched the object from his friend’s outstretched hand and once again turned to go. It was only just before he entered the doors’ sensor range when McCoy spoke.

 

“Is Spock really okay with this?”

 

The captain halted, his shoulders slumping as guilt cut holes in his gut. “I don’t know, Bones.” He released a shaky sigh. “Worst case scenario, he hates me after this, but at least he’ll still be alive. I can live with that.”

 

\---------

 

Jim had barely cleared the entrance to his first officer’s quarters when he was hit with a wall. Well, not exactly, he corrected himself as his head stopped spinning. He had been tackled by a certain half-Vulcan and was currently pinned to the wall by his lithe, naked body. Kirk tried really hard not to think of how close he was to his own personal walking wet dream.

 

“I see you’ve regained your strength,” he murmured into the shoulder pressed against his lips. The sharp chin above his head dug more firmly into his hair.

 

“You are late.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You are… six point one four minutes… late.”

 

Kirk mentally kicked himself. He had specified that it would only take him a minute; of course Spock had taken it literally. “I’m so sorry, Spock. I didn’t think I’d be held up.” He gently pushed on the Vulcan’s chest, nudging him in the general direction of the bed; Spock merely grunted in response. It took a few minutes, Jim having to mostly drag his still clinging first officer, but he managed to shuffle them over to the too-small bunk and flop both of their bodies onto it.

 

Spock mumbled something unintelligible into the tangled sheets.

 

One corner of Kirk’s mouth perked up as his eyebrows grew slightly together. “What was that?” he asked bemusedly.

 

This time, the half-Vulcan placed his lips against the human’s ear, hot air trickling over the sensitive skin as he panted, “What… necessitated your departure?”

 

A shudder ran down Kirk’s spine as Spock’s deep voice tickled down him. He once again found himself trying, and failing, to remain emotionally detached. Unhitching his voice as best he could, he quickly explained, “I had to get some supplies.” He gently indicated the Altair waters still wedged under his arm.

 

Nimble fingers quickly plucked one of the beverages from their resting place. Spock viciously ripped off the screw top and snapped upright to drink, finally freeing the Captain. Using the momentary distraction, Kirk unloaded the remaining waters onto the nearby nightstand.

 

He turned back just as the last drops of Altair water drained past Spock’s lips. He had hoped that the drink would distract the Vulcan for longer than that but it seemed that the time was now. With a soft _thunk_ , the empty bottle was unceremoniously dropped to the carpeted floor so that pale hands would be free to reach. Predatory eyes bored into him as the pads of each finger settled into place over the human’s face, once again drowning Kirk in the fires of the plaktow.

 

Jim tried his best to quickly sate his friend’s need with his hands, but even after climax, the fires again remained. Ignoring the mess this time, as he’d failed to contain it, the captain simply held the man he cared for so deeply and buried his face in the disaster of what was usually a neatly kept head of hair. Taking a deep breath, Jim prepared himself to ask the question he was certain he already knew the answer to.

 

“Spock?”

 

Dark brown eyes peered up through mussed bangs. How could he look so serious, yet endearing?

 

“You need more than this, don’t you?” Spock cocked one slanted eyebrow in question. Kirk took a deep breath and clarified, “That is, to overcome pon farr, you need to mate, right?”

 

The other arched brow rose to join the other. “You are offering to…” Spock trailed off and raked his eyes up and down the body of his commanding officer.

 

Kirk reached into his back pocket, retrieving the tube of lubricant, and pressed the container into the half-Vulcan’s palm. With his own hands free, he unbuttoned his pants and began to wriggle out of them. Spock seemed to stop breathing entirely. When Kirk had managed the remove the black material from his legs, he blushed as his inability to suppress his physical reaction became blatantly obvious.

 

“Yes.” A deep green flush decorated high cheekbones and pointed ear tips. “I require intercourse.” Spock spluttered in a rush. He fumbled with the tube before getting it open and hastily slicking his cock. He fixed Jim with an intense stare. “Immediately.”

 

Kirk laughed nervously and reached his hand toward Spock, not quite able to meet his eyes. “Could you put some lubricant on my fingers? I’ll prepare as quickly as I can.”

 

The Vulcan merely frowned.

 

When Spock showed no sign of moving, Jim reached for the tube himself, but the Vulcan pulled it out of reach, still staring at him, as though trying to communicate something.

 

Hazel eyes met dark ones and blinked back and forth in confusion. Then it came to him. “You have no idea how to do this, do you?”

 

Spock looked insulted at the idea that his vast storage of knowledge was lacking. If his expression hadn’t been enough, the deep rumble issuing for his chest would have clued him in.

 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that you had absolutely _no_ idea,” Kirk tried to placate the irate Vulcan. “Just, I mean, you can’t just stick it in.” When Spock’s glare morphed into a look of bafflement, Jim groaned into the mattress and silently cursed whatever god or god-like being that constantly threw him into the position of having to explain these kinds of things.

 

Deciding to hide behind the construct of a purely scientific description, Kirk pushed through. “I’ll try to explain.” With a deep breath and eyes determinedly looking anywhere but Spock, he continued. “Anal sex is different, since the entrance is a muscle. And like any muscle, it needs to be stretched before, uh, _vigorous exercise_. Like stretching before you run, especially if you haven’t done it in a while.”

 

Glancing up, Kirk saw that although his friend’s brows were still furrowed in confusion (or thought, he could never really tell), Spock was slowly nodding in comprehension. “How…?”

 

“Well, that’s why I wanted the lube on my fingers. It’s just starting with something small, like one finger, and working your way up.”

 

Near-black eyes went wide and Spock sat up straight, an even deeper flush of green toning highlights over his entire body. “Fingers?” The Vulcan began vibrating again and it was apparently difficult to hold onto the little tube that still resided in his hands.

 

Misinterpreting, Jim reached for the container. “Here, I’ll do it, you don’t have to look, I’ll be quick, just—”

 

“May I?” Spock nearly whispered, his voice husky. “Please.” he said, a little louder.

 

This time, Kirk felt himself blushing. “I… uh… yeah, sure, I mean, if you want to.” Jim could not, for the life of him, explain why the thought of Spock’s fingers inside of him threw him off more than the thought of his cock, but that was a thought for another time. For now, with head resting in his arms, he lifted his hips, pushed himself onto his knees, and tried desperately to relax.

 

Spock squeezed a copious amount of lubricant into his hand and uncaringly tossed the small bottle over his shoulder. Nimble fingers spread the substance over themselves. With his ever-present curiosity, the first officer began to explore the captain’s hindquarters. Lithe digits gently poked and prodded and — ohdeargod — _massaged_ the most sensitive skin Jim had to offer. The human was panting and shuddering by the time the half-Vulcan dared to venture near his entrance.

 

As Kirk lay cursing his inability to remain impassive, he felt one finger prod and then slowly push into him. He was mentally berating himself for moaning when he realized that, other than his heavy breathing, he had not made a sound. A glance at Spock revealed what he had not seen before; eyes half lidded, the single digit beginning to stroke in and out, and another moan echoed from deep in the Vulcan’s chest.

 

“Ah!” Spock cried out as a second finger penetrated Jim’s opening. The pattern repeated until three fingers had thoroughly wriggled, twisted and stroked every which way they could.

 

Attempting to silently alert his counterpart to his readiness, Kirk squeezed his ass around the fingers still invading him. He did not anticipate the reaction his first officer supplied.

 

Spock practically screamed, his free hand grasping a hold of Jim’s thigh. The digits inside Kirk curled forward, pressing tightly against the human’s prostate. Neither man could prevent himself from climaxing.

 

Withdrawing his fingers, Spock flopped down next to his captain. Using the hand on his thigh to roll the man onto his side, he pulled Kirk closer and planted gentle kisses all over his face and anywhere else he could reach.

 

An insistent nudging at his hip caused Kirk to look down. Spock was still hard; his cock hadn’t had the good grace to even soften this time.

 

“I… still… need…” he moaned and gasped, his tone begging.

 

The captain gave the nod for the go ahead, but instead of being hauled to his knees as he expected, he was rolled onto his back. Settling between his legs, Spock grew a contemplative look as he assessed the difficulty of their positions. But he was nothing if not an intelligent man. Pushing Jim’s knees back until they nearly touched the captain’s chest gave Spock the proper angle. Reaching down, Spock aligned his member with Kirk’s entrance.

 

Jim braced his legs on the Vulcan’s sides to steady his body and gasped as the head of Spock’s cock pushed past the tight ring of muscle. Spock’s endowment wasn’t exactly enormous, per se, but it was certainly proportional, and the first officer was rather tall. When Spock was fully sheathed inside of him, Jim felt so full that it was hard to breathe.

 

It had been a long time since Kirk had been with anyone, much less a guy, and even longer still since he’d bottomed, but it was not painful to accommodate his friend. Jim’s silent praise for the Vulcan’s thorough preparation was quickly interrupted as Spock drew out and slammed back into the willing body beneath him.

 

“Oh, Jim,” was the only English muttered in a long stream of what must have been Vulcan —or gibberish— that came spewing forth from pale lips. Lithe fingers dug into Kirk’s hips with bruising force as Spock mercilessly pounded into him.

 

Jim’s façade of nonchalance was long gone. Slightly masochistic tendencies were a blessing, as the pain did nothing to dampen his pleasure. The feel of the slick cock sliding in and out of his tight hole left him writhing and moaning. Inexperienced thrusts repeatedly missed or merely glanced the human’s most sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing him. Kirk was achingly hard again by the time he felt Spock’s hot seed spill inside of him.

 

To his shock, Spock pulled out, manhandled him back onto his knees and entered him again in one smooth motion. Jim would be comfortable forgetting the awful squelching noise it caused and thankfully Spock appeared eager to provide many distractions.

 

Spock’s hands seemed to scrabble for purchase everywhere, never quite settling in any one spot; his nails occasionally raking across his skin, leaving fire in their wake. Jim was lost to it, bucking back into each of Spock’s thrusts, moaning incoherently between shouted swears. He could feel himself nearing the edge— he was so close—

 

Spock’s hips stuttered, thrust deep, and froze. Kirk swore, trying to grind back, desperate for release, but Spock held his hips in place with bruising force.

 

The Vulcan’s softening member withdrew from the confines of the captain with a soft pop and Spock collapsed on top of Jim, effectively pinning him to the mattress. Irritated that he was stuck, his erection trapped between the weight of their bodies and the mattress with no relief in sight, Kirk let out a groan of frustration and resigned himself to being stuck with a bad case of blue balls.

 

Jim couldn’t hide his soft gasp when a sleepy hand slid beneath him and wrapped long fingers around his shaft. One, two, three inexpert tugs, and, with a grateful moan, Jim added his emissions to the sticky mess with which they were adorned. After a bit of elbowing to get Spock to move, they drifted into an easy sleep, comfortably wrapped in each other’s arms.

 

\---------

 

When Kirk awoke, he was aware of three things. One: it was definitely the middle of the night. Two: he was _not_ in his own cabin. Three: there were warm, strong arms wrapped around him and holding his back to a furred chest.

 

Then it came back to him; _Spock_ was curled tightly behind him. The captain smiled: if anyone ever accused the first officer of cuddling, much less spooning, this reserved individual would _vehemently deny such a preposterous allegation_.

 

Kirk couldn’t help but worry over the potential for backlash when Spock awoke. The Vulcan would probably hate him for the rest of his life, but at least the man would be alive. Jim shuddered at the thought of a universe without Spock. Kirk turned his head to look over his shoulder at the sleeping being wrapped so protectively around him. A tousled mop of black hair sat above slanted eyebrows relaxed in slumber. Soft lips were parted slightly to allow warm, steady breath to flow through them. Kirk wanted nothing more than to steal one last kiss before the angry Vulcan awoke and physically threw him from the cabin.

 

Blue-grey eyelids began to flutter and Jim made his move. It was a small, chaste press of lips, but all that the human would dare. He had already overstepped the man’s boundaries by a mile; he didn’t deserve another inch. Dark, drowsy eyes slowly slid open and immediately locked onto the hazel orbs gazing at him. Emotions played themselves out in Spock’s eyes in quick succession: sleepy contentment, mild confusion, hasty calculation, sudden realization, and, finally, unmitigated horror.

 

The science officer shot backwards out from under the covers and across the room nearly at warp speed. Kirk felt, with the loss of contact, a sharp pang in his chest. Deciding that he could no longer watch the revulsion dancing on his friend’s face, the captain turned his head away and sat up on the bed. He tried to ignore the dried remnants of the previous night’s emissions that were plastered to his skin; it was too painful to think of the thing that had just destroyed his most important relationship.

 

“Spock, I’ll just go now, okay? I’ll never mention it again; we can just forget about it. I won’t blame you if—” But he was cut off by a horrible keening sound from behind him, and Jim could not help but look towards the source of the sound. Spock was slumped against the wall and had the heels of his palms digging into his eyes.

 

“How—? How could—?” The Vulcan choked on his words and slid further down the wall, onto the floor. Jim felt positively sick; his friend would have rather died then had the captain even _touch_ him, much less everything else they’d done. This was worse than anger. Kirk would have rather been beaten to a bloody pulp than hear that heartbreaking sound. Kirk was ready to flee into the hallway, ignoring his nakedness, when Spock finally stuttered out, “How _could_ I?”

 

Kirk opened his mouth to splutter apologies when it hit him. _How could I? Not you? Wait, what?_ Instead of flinging himself at the doors to escape, Jim found himself slowly rising from his perch on the bed and edging nearer to his first officer. “Spock, it’s alright.” Blonde brows furrowed in confusion of epic proportions. “You did nothing wrong.”

 

There was a long drawn out silence in which neither man seemed to breathe. Slowly, long elegant hands slid away from dark eyes, and Spock schooled his features into the familiar Vulcan mask. The alien drew a long, shaky breath before he was able to control his exhalations as well.

 

“Forgive me, Captain— No,” he interrupted himself, “Jim. Do not excuse my actions, for what I have done is unforgivable.”

 

“Spock… I have no idea what you are talking about,” chided Kirk as he sank to his knees in front of him. “If anyone here needs to be apologizing, it’s me.”

 

The first officer’s head snapped up at that, his dark brown eyes piercing into hazel. “You have saved my life. Saved me from what would have been a shameful and agonizing death. Jim…” Spock finally looked away, and stared hard at another corner of the room. “You offered me this gift and I repaid you with betrayal.”

 

At his friend’s words, Kirk took a deep breath and tried to set aside his own feelings of guilt for the time being. It was more important to discover the source of Vulcan’s self-reproach. “You haven’t betrayed me. You never would.”

 

Spock shook his head. “I have violated you, taken advantage of your kindness. You do not know.”

 

“What don’t I know?”

 

Dark eyes still determinedly dodged the captain’s gaze. “It’s… about Vulcan biology.”

 

“Oh we are not getting into this again, trying to talk your way around the issue. Tell me what’s going on.”

 

“You are, of course, correct. You do not deserve my usual methods of circumlocution. I will attempt to speak plainly. You deserve the truth…” Spock took another deep breath and continued to resolutely stare anywhere but his commanding officer. “Vulcans… Vulcans cannot achieve climax without a partner, even outside of pon farr. For us, the mental component of any sexual interaction is as important, if not more important, than the physical. We require the touch of another mind in order to… find relief. As my species are touch telepaths, this requires some form of contact. But… this is where I have deceived you.”

 

Kirk tried to silently assure his friend with a hand on his shoulder, but it only caused the man to flinch. “Our initial activities would have eventually sated the pon farr. In fact, had I only a light meld with you, I could have self-stimulated until the fires burned themselves out.”

 

Jim’s face slid into a blank stare as the puzzle pieces clicked together one by one. Was Spock saying what he thought he was?

 

“When you offered yourself to me, I could not resist. The thought of…” the deep voice dropped an octave, “the thought of being inside of you was too much. I could not control myself. I lied to you. You offered me whatever I needed in order to save my life and I took far more than what was necessary.” Spock hung his head. “For this, I am sorry.”

 

“So let me get this straight,” muttered Kirk, with no anger in his voice, but regardless, Spock tensed as though expecting a blow. “In the haze of pon farr, with all of your inhibitions stripped from you, when I practically threw myself at you, you couldn’t fight the urge to push your attention-starved cock into my willing body,” he let the honeyed tones of seduction creep into his voice, “ _over_ and _over_ again, until I begged for more?”

 

Kirk noted with fascination the green tinge that was rising all over Spock’s body and how his aforementioned organ gave an interested twitch. The science officer gave an infinitesimally small nod.

 

“And am I to assume that, even outside of the influence of your Time, this is still something that you crave?”

 

Spock cringed but gave yet another nod. Kirk couldn’t restrain himself anymore. He grabbed Spock’s face with both hands and kissed him until the Vulcan looked dazed. The first officer began the curious vibrating he seemed capable of, so Kirk hissed at him to cut it out. Cupping a hand under his friend’s chin, he pulled their faces to rest a few inches apart.

 

“Spock, look at me.” Deep brown eyes reluctantly latched onto hazel, slightly crossed from the proximity. “What if I told you that I feel the exact same way?”

 

It was the first officer’s turn to look completely baffled. “Previous observation would indicate you would not be interested in this type of liaison.”

 

Kirk simply chucked. Of _course_ the Vulcan had been watching him and of _course_ he had come to the wrong conclusions. “What about a relationship between us do you think I would be opposed to? Is it because we’re both male?” Spock tinged a bit more green. “Or did you think I wouldn’t be interested in anything long term?” Now the tips of pointed ears were _bright_ green. Jim decided to take pity on the poor man. “I can understand where you would’ve drawn your conclusions from, but I can also tell you that they’re wrong.”

 

Kirk withdrew his arms from around the man he cared for with every fiber of his being and unhurriedly rose to his feet. He held out a hand to Spock and said tenderly, “Come, let’s have this conversation somewhere a little more comfortable than the floor.” He jerked his head towards the bed.

 

It took a little coaxing, but soon the pair was curled comfortably under the covers again, nose to nose, legs entwined.

 

“Okay, first off, as for the whole male thing, I guess you’ve never picked up on it, but I’ve been with plenty of guys.” This raised a peaked eyebrow. “Really! I mean, more so in my academy days, but even out here in space. I’ve never really discriminated over trivial things like gender or species when it comes to partners. As long as they’re willing and able to consent… and not made of lava or something equally caustic.” Spock’s expressive eyes betrayed his otherwise well-disguised mirth at Kirk’s mini-joke.

 

“As for committed relationships,” he continued, “in truth, that’s generally what I’m looking for. Love’s important to me. I haven’t really had a lot of luck with it in the past, though. Mostly people just don’t turn out to be right for me; either they can’t keep up with me, or they’re crazy, or they want to chain me down to one place for the rest of my life, or, more often than not these days, they turn out to just be trying to get into the pants of some famous starship captain.” Jim laughed bitterly. “And so began the reputation of James _‘T-for-Tomcat’_ Kirk, Starfleet’s man-slut.”

 

Strong arms tightened their hold around the captain. “I have never thought of you as unashamedly promiscuous,” Spock’s deep voice rumbled. “Simply… far too attractive than would be considered beneficial.”

 

Kirk let out a great belly laugh. “You think I’m too pretty for my own good?”

 

“It is not only your exceptional aesthetics to which I am referring; it is also your katra, your soul, that draws in attentions. _Especially_ from undesirable persons.”

 

A comfortable silence swept over them as the human contemplated Spock’s words and the Vulcan studied the being in his arms.

 

“Anything else you want to talk about?” Jim murmured sleepily, wiggling closer to the blazing heat of his first officer. “Any questions for me?”

 

“I find I do not wish to overanalyze the situation we find ourselves in. It is enough that you do not find me distasteful.”

 

“I’d have to be blind and stupid to think of you that way,” Kirk trailed off with a yawn.

 

“I was not accusing you of such, as you are neither sightless nor unintelligent, but it is often difficult to predict how my differences will be taken.”

 

“Well, for the record then, I think your differences are _hot_.” Jim punctuated his statement with a soft kiss to a slanted brow. “They make you unique. And I can’t say I wasn’t flattered that you came by simply having your _fingers_ inside me.”

 

The light green flush returned to Spock’s ears and cheeks. “Vulcan hands are very sensitive,” he declared defensively.

 

“Oh?” Jim was able to unwrap one arm from around him, despite Spock’s attempt to keep his hands hidden behind the human’s back, and gently entwine the long fingers in his own.

 

“They are conduits for psionic energy. When in contact with another being, thoughts and emotions are often translated into a corresponding sensation. When I was preparing you, it was… highly pleasurable.”

 

“So your fingers are only especially sensitive to living things?” At a nearly imperceptible nod from his friend, Kirk chortled. “Oh good, glad you aren’t getting off on your keyboard.”

 

“ _Getting off_ , Captain?” Spock asked, his head cocked to the side quizzically.

 

“Never mind, Spock, stupid human expression. Go on, tell me about your hands.”

 

With a nod, he hesitantly continued. “Since it is emotion and the intensity of contact that influences the sensation, different situations have distinct results. Usually, it is merely uncomfortable, sometimes painful. Occasionally it is not unpleasant, but… I… have never before experienced…” the Vulcan’s voice faded.

 

Jim gently soothed circles into the digits clasped in his grasp. “I suppose you’ve never slept with someone who had as much bottled up sexual tension as me.”

 

“If by ‘slept with’ you mean the inaccurate and easily misconstrued human euphemism for coitus, then you are correct in your assumptions. I have never engaged in sexual intercourse with a being as passionate as yourself, nor any other being for that matter.”

 

Twin blonde eyebrows shot up in an impressive imitation of the first officer’s. “You’re a virgin?” he squawked.

 

“I would think not anymore,” Spock deadpanned, one eyebrow raised.

 

Kirk’s snort morphed into chortles, which turned into laughter. Eventually he quieted down and the two lovers drifted into another tranquil sleep, nested in each other’s arms.

 

\---------

 

Jim awoke to the sensation of someone trailing their fingertips over every bit of flesh left exposed by the blankets: his face, his neck, his shoulder. The human tried to remain still and keep his breathing steady, afraid to chase away those hands that seemed determined to memorize every inch of skin by touch.

 

“Jim, I know you are awake, there is no purpose in pretending. I will not cease my actions unless you wish me to.”

 

Hazel eyes slid open and latched onto smoldering chocolate ones. A bright smile spread on the human’s lips and the joy added a soft lilt to his voice. “Damn touch telepath.” He turned his head into a caress to place a kiss to the exploring digits. “What time is it?”

 

“It is 0943 ship’s time.”

 

Kirk groaned and slid a hand over his face, trying to wipe he sleep from it. “We should probably check in with Bones, show him we’re okay, before he burns himself out from sheer stress.”

 

Spock stiffened momentarily, but quickly resumed tracing patterns with his fingers. “Doctor McCoy knows of this situation?”

 

“Well, yeah, don’t you remember? I had to have him order a medical emergency override to get in here to you.” Jim smiled sheepishly. “He helped me get you out of the fresher too. His tricorder readings are what told me what was happening. You should have seen him though,” he laughed. “Ol’ Bones threw a conniption fit; he thought I was trying to kill you! Don’t ever let him say he doesn’t care.” The human reluctantly withdrew himself from the warm embrace and sat up, urging his partner to do the same.

 

Following turns in the bathroom, the two friends dressed in silence: Spock in a crisp, clean uniform, and Kirk in only the rumpled pants from the previous day, not even bothering with his underwear. The captain ducked into the hallway with first officer in tow, fully intending to slip unnoticed into his cabin only one door down. Luck was not on his side.

 

A pretty brunette yeoman came to a halt in her tracks at the sight of her superior officers. She quickly lifted a data pad to hide her blush as she thoroughly ogled the disheveled captain. A low, nearly imperceptible growl snapped her attention away from the golden barrel chest before her to _something_ behind him. The whites of her eyes grew visible around her pale irises; with a salute, the yeoman excused herself and scurried quickly away.

 

Kirk peered behind him to ask if Spock knew what that was about when he caught the expression on the alien’s face. His features were as stoic as ever, but could only be described as murderous as his eyes glittered maliciously. No wonder the poor girl had fled.

 

At Jim’s amused chuckle, Spock snapped out of it, his eyes turning once more to their gentle shine. “My apologies, Captain. I do not know what came over me. Perhaps I am not fully recovered from the influence of the hormones.”

 

“Hormones? Perhaps, Mr. Spock,” Kirk quipped and spun on his heel. “But when we mere humans have a reaction like that… we call it jealousy.” The human bounded into his cabin with a smirk on his face, first officer spluttering behind him.

 

It didn’t take long for Kirk to find a clean uniform and change into it before returning to his still not-quite-scowling friend. “Shall we?” They meandered their way to sickbay, Jim beaming and Spock following barely an inch behind, their shoulders nearly brushing. With the hiss of automatic doors, the pair arrived in the medical suite side-by-side.

 

Leonard McCoy glanced up from his charts to see the new arrivals, did a double take, and narrowed his eyes. “Oh stop grinning like that, Jim, before the whole damn ship knows what the two of you were up to,” he barked, pulling out a tricorder and herding his two best friends into the examining room. “Spend all night worrying over you damn fool and you show up here all smiles,” he grumbled bitterly under his breath. “Should’a known you’d be fine. Good to see you alive too, you overgrown elf. Captain Fearless here would’ve been inconsolable if he’d lost you. I wouldn’t— no, the _galaxy_ wouldn’t have enough Romulan ale to fix _that_.”

 

As McCoy continued running his tricorder (and his mouth), Kirk noticed that the doctor had yet to actually check on Spock, the whole reason they were there. “Bones? Don’t you think you should be more worried about Spock’s health?”

 

“I’ll get to him,” he grumbled and flicked his hand at the first officer. “I’m just making sure Vulcan crazy-time didn’t tear you a new one.”

 

One slanted brow arched. “ _Tear a new one_? What would I be tearing and for what purpose?”

 

“Bones means ripping a hole in me, it’s more metaphorical than literal, don’t take it seriously.”

 

Spock’s eyebrows furrowed slightly together. “I am displeased that Doctor McCoy believes that I would forcibly rend an opening in your flesh. I assure you, your current number of orifices are more than sufficient.”

 

The CMO looked up from his instrument to settle a steady glare on Spock. “I don’t wanna hear anything about Jim’s _orifices_ outside of a medical context. I cannot be held accountable for what I might do when mentally scarred.” He swept the tricorder over the alien and again trained his gaze on the results. “Alright, as far as I can see, the two of you are fit as fiddles, but I’m still gonna insist that you take one more shift rotation off. Last thing I need is having to treat you damn fools for emotional trauma—” Spock opened his mouth to protest (most likely that Vulcans do not suffer emotional trauma) but was silenced by Jim’s hand on his shoulder, “—all because I didn’t authorize medical leave for you to talk this thing out. Now, get out of my sickbay.”

 

The two commanding officers were wise enough to not complain.

 

“So, I’m not much in the mood for talking,” Kirk declared once they were safely in the hallway. “I feel like we’ve already gotten that out of the way.”

 

“Indeed? We are off the duty roster until tomorrow morning. While I have several experiments that could occupy my time, I was under the impression that Doctor McCoy intended for us to spend this time together.”

 

“Oh, I had something in mind…” His fingers accidentally-on-purpose brushed against the back of Spock’s, transferring just a hint of his inappropriate thoughts.

 

A tiny nod said message received. “That would be… amenable, Jim.”

 

The closest space available happened to be the captain’s quarters. Depressing the door switch, Kirk quickly darted inside, dragging Spock by the front of his shirt, and nearly tripping over each other in the process.

 

\---------

 

Spock was not unenthusiastic, but there was certainly a quality to his kisses that was different from the previous night— was it shyness? Jim guided the Vulcan to sit on the mattress. “I’m glad we get to christen _my_ bed this time,” he whispered, straddling his first officer’s lap, and proceeded to lock their lips together once again.

 

Spock rumbled his agreement and wrapped his arms around his captain, hands brushing a sliver of skin peaking out from under the uniform top.

 

After a few long moments of kissing languidly, tongues dancing to the slowest beat, Jim finally had to pull away for air. “What do you want to do? I’m all yours.”

 

“Jim, it would likely be to our mutual benefit if you took the lead at this time, as my experience is severely limited.”

 

“Mmm, good point.” Kirk nuzzled the Vulcan’s neck and breathed in deeply, delighting in the shudder his warm breath caused. “I still can’t believe this is real. Last night, I just kept thinking that this whole fiasco was going to destroy our friendship.”

 

Spock arched a slanted eyebrow. “I must admit that I do not see the logic in that assumption.”

 

“I thought that you would think I was taking advantage of the situation… Spock, I’ve been attracted to you for a while now, but you just didn’t seem interested. I swore to myself I wouldn’t act on my feelings; I didn’t want to push you away. But, when you were in pon farr, I knew that with close contact, there was the chance you’d see into my head and see how depraved I really am.” Kirk took a deep breath. “Of course, now that I’m saying it aloud, I sound like an idiot.”

 

“I maintain that you are not unintelligent, quite simply irrational when emotions are involved, as most humans are.”

 

“Says the man who _oh so rationally_ gave up all hope of surviving rather than ask for help.” Hazel eyes gave a long, hard stare into deep brown. Spock at least had the decency to look ashamed. “But anyway, back to my original point. Last night, I didn’t want to do _anything_ that could be misconstrued as me indulging. God, I was so mad at myself for getting hard when—”

 

Long, lithe fingers gently pressed against pink lips, halting Jim’s speech. “You are talking far too much for someone who claimed to be ‘not much in the mood for talking’ if I recall correctly.”

 

A wicked smile spread across Kirk’s lips. “Is that Vulcan for ‘shut up and fuck me’?” he said before sucking the fingers into his mouth and conjuring up some of the filthiest thoughts possible.

 

Spock had opened his mouth to correct Jim, that _that_ wasn’t quite what he’d meant, but the sudden onslaught of sensation instead caused him to cry out and arch into the man straddled across his lap.

 

Kirk lapped at the fingers, delighting at the sounds Spock produced at each twirl of tongue or scrape of teeth. Spock whimpered when, with a soft _pop_ , Jim pulled his mouth from the digits. The captain used the momentary distraction to whip off his own shirt before starting in on Spock’s. “Off,” he growled, tugging upwards on the blue hem.

 

Spock obediently raised his arms towards the ceiling, allowing the fabric to be removed from his body.

 

“God, I want to taste every inch of your skin,” Kirk moaned before clamping down on Spock’s neck to suck a green and copper hickey, just barely above the collar line. _Oh, I’m going to be in trouble for that._ As Spock spoke, Kirk continued his explorations, biting at the Vulcan’s Adam’s apple, nipping at an earlobe, and sucking on a pointed ear tip.

 

“The average body of an adult Vulcan male — ah, yes, there! — has approximately 2,880 square inches of skin. Allowing for a minimum of five seconds of contact — oh please, do not stop — it would take at least four hours to cover every inch of skin. Jim, I am not certain that I am capable of sustaining my current level of arousal for such an extended period.”

 

Kirk, laughing, had to stop his ministrations to prevent himself from biting down too hard on the sensitive skin. “It wasn’t meant to be literal, Spock. Though, I have to admit, it’d be fun to try some day.” He smiled and set to his task again, giving the other ear equal treatment before moving lower and laving small, copper colored nipples with affection from his fingers and tongue.

 

Spock shuddered and went limp, flopping backwards onto the bed, causing Kirk’s forehead to collide rather forcefully with his collarbone.

 

“Ow, Spock, little warning next time, kay?” Spock only nodded weakly as Kirk placed a gentle kiss on the point of impact. “I can’t complain too much though: you look hot sprawled out like this.”

 

“I assure you Captain, my temperature is within optimal range. I request that you do not cease your actions on account of my wellbeing.”

 

“Not that kind of hot, and you know it. And I have no intention of stopping.” Jim nipped the depression in Spock’s chest, between his pectorals, and soothed the teeth marks with little licks. “Well, unless you tell me to stop, in which case I will.” Blonde brows furrowed together. “You _will_ tell me to stop if I do something you aren’t comfortable with, right? None of this guilt-trip stuff.”

 

Dark eyes opened to slits to peer into concerned hazel orbs. “I doubt that you could do anything that would cause me discomfort, but in the event that you should, I will endeavor to make my thoughts known.” Lithe fingers ghosted over Kirk’s cheek, teasing the psychic connection.

 

Jim leaned into the feather-light caress, both mentally and physically. “Good.”

 

It took a bit of maneuvering, but soon, instead of lying sprawled sideways across the bed, they lay lengthwise, Spock’s head on the pillow. Kirk continued his ministrations, licking and biting and sucking the skin as he worked his way down. When the pink tongue reached Spock’s naval, Kirk had already wriggled himself out of his pants and now his fingers were fumbling with the buttons on the science officer’s pants. He had to momentarily cease bathing Spock with his tongue to focus on the stubborn garment. Finally, Kirk was able to pull pants and underwear from long, pale legs in one smooth slide.

 

Spock’s erection jutted out proudly, the light green head peeking past the ivory foreskin. Kirk placed a kiss on the tip followed by a quick flick of the tongue.

 

Spock shuddered and bucked into the sensation, but when the human moved to repeat the gesture, warm hands caught his face and held it away. “Jim,” he gasped, nearly breathless, “while I find that to be highly pleasurable, I sincerely doubt that it is sanitary.”

 

Kirk laughed and batted away the hands. “No less sanitary than your fingers, and I’ve already had those in my mouth.” Spock blushed. “Besides, even if I were worried about that, I thought I heard you take a sonic in the fresher this morning. Surely, you didn’t spend your entire time on the toilet…” The green in Spock’s cheeks deepened.

 

Kirk bent to his task again, this time taking the entire head into his mouth and sucking. Spock groaned and slid his fingers into curly hair, fighting not to arch into the blissfully wet heat. Jim wriggled his tongue around, toying with the foreskin before descending further onto the rigid shaft. By the time Kirk had worked his mouth down to the base, Spock had started up a breathy mantra of, “Jim. Jim. Jim.”

 

The blonde head suddenly bobbed, pulling almost fully off of the Vulcan’s phallus before again sucking it deeply into the throat. Spock whimpered and continued to chant his lover’s name — only louder — as Kirk set a rhythm of bobbing and sucking and licking. Jim’s hand ghosted over tender testicles, only to feel them literally leap from his grasp as Spock came, shouting his name. Kirk sucked and lapped at the softening organ, savoring the bittersweet metallic taste of Spock’s semen, only releasing it when the spasms of orgasm stopped.

 

Jim settled his head to the side, on a smooth swatch of skin, and gave his weary neck rest for a moment. Kirk did his best to ignore the insistent hard-on still trapped in his briefs; it would get the attention it needed later. For now, the human was more than content to bask in the Vulcan’s afterglow, mental waves of happiness and gratitude sweeping across his mind. They remained like that for several minutes before either spoke.

 

“Jim?” Spock asked, his voice had an unnaturally high-pitched lilt to it. “I have… a request.”

 

“Mmm?” Kirk nuzzled the pale flesh between the Vulcan’s hip and spent cock.

 

“Last night… You offered your body to me… I… I wish to reciprocate.”

 

Kirk looked up into deep brown eyes. “Spock… I… Are you sure? I mean, the offer is definitely appreciated, but I don’t expect you to do that— you don’t have to just because I did.”

 

“I do not ask out of sense of obligation… merely a wish for equality in roles between us.” Spock swept a hand over psi points once again, fully transmitting his feelings on the matter. “I, however, understand if you are unwilling for your own reasons. I will not be insulted,” Spock stated, but his tone said otherwise.

 

Kirk just parted his lips into the dazzling smile that made suns look dim. “There is nothing I don’t want to do with you. I just don’t want to be pushy about anything either.” Pushing himself up on his arms, Jim moved up the bed to place a lingering kiss on pliant lips. “Let me just grab… the…” he trailed off. Hazel eyes went wide and locked onto Spock’s confused ones. “We left the lube in your room!” he groaned.

 

Slanted eyebrows twitched as the Vulcan processed this information at lightning speed. “Then I suggest we synthesize more.”

 

His personal food synthesizer, how hadn’t _he_ thought of that? Kirk sang silent praises to the gods for rank and its privileges. He practically danced his way to the machine and tapped in a chemical formula that would do nicely. He returned to his partner promptly with what looked like a shot glass filled with very viscous water. “Get this: pre warmed!” Kirk set down the cup on the ledge above the bed and slid back into his partner’s embrace.

 

Jim clutched Spock to his chest, relishing in the skin contact and the fact that he could physically _hold_ this being he held so dear. A gentle shift of hips brought Kirk’s attention back to his neglected and _still_ cloth-caged cock. Kirk slid off of Spock and, rocking back onto his heels, managed to discard his briefs.

 

“Okay, I know this is kind of impersonal, but I want you to get on your hands and knees. It’s the best position for your first time; doesn’t let you clench your muscles as much and lets you help set the tempo.”

 

“Logical.” Spock languidly rolled onto his stomach and arched off the bed onto all fours. Only a cat would have a chance at performing such an action as elegantly and smoothly as the half-Vulcan did.

 

Kirk gently rested his hands on the backs of pale thighs and ran his palms upward to cup shapely buttocks. Pink lips kissed each mound before inching lower. Hands tenderly but firmly anchoring hips in place, Jim sucked both of Spock’s testicles into his mouth. As expected, Spock bucked at the sudden pleasure. Kirk mouthed each ball and ran his tongue around them, flicking and teasing the delicate skin. Spock quickly resumed the quiet mantra of panting Jim’s name.

 

When green blood began to fill and stretch the flaccid member, Kirk released his captives and moved on. A few well-placed licks to the perineum had Spock increasing the volume of his speech by a few decibels. The pink tongue trailed up into the crack and swept across the tight entrance.

 

Spock gasped and arched into the touch. “This is — oh, oooh — most definitely not — oh please — sanitary!” Despite his half-hearted protests, soon a string of the repetitious, “Jim,” again filled the room.

 

Kirk pointed his tongue and pressed into the virginal opening slightly, retreated, and pressed again, slowly worming his way in to stretch the muscle. Closing his lips around the bud, he sucked gently and flicked his tongue.

 

Spock ground back into the mouth that was so diligently invading him, only to whimper as the warm luxury retreated.

 

“Glad you like that, but if I have to listen to you making those sounds for much longer, I’ll come before I can even get inside.”

 

Dipping his fingers in the shot glass of lube, Kirk returned his digits to explore the eager hole. One finger slid in easily. The second caused Spock to clench down.

 

“Shh, it’s okay.” With his free hand, Kirk soothingly rubbed the small of Spock’s back. “Just take a deep breath and relax. Try to arch your back.” Jim felt the Vulcan nod and comply; slowly the ring of muscle eased its grip. Gently twisting and scissoring his fingers, Kirk continued to open Spock up enough to accommodate the bulk of a penis. A third finger followed in its own time, along with a slow, steady thrusting motion. Kirk was searching for a certain spot…

 

“Ah!” Spock gasped, “What was _that_?”

 

Oh yeah, he’d found it. “That would be your prostate. Handy little thing, isn’t it?”

 

“I had forgotten that —yesssss— in addition to its regulatory functions it also —ah!— served as an erogenous zone.”

 

“Well, you found it in me a few times by accident. Now you know what to look for.” He gave the spot another prod. Kirk slid his fingers from the tight passage and swiftly grabbed his cock, lubricating the appendage. Neither of them was going to last long: he’d been holding back his impending orgasm for a while already and Spock was readily leaking precome onto the bedspread.

 

Lining himself up with the stretched entrance, Kirk began gradually pushing his way inside. Haltingly, patiently, Jim slid into the heavenly heat. By the time he was fully seated, Spock was quaking like a Klingon surrounded by tribbles. Kirk was too busy cooing over the man and soothing the taught muscles in his back to prevent Spock from pitching forward and slamming back, hard. The sharp gasp that this elicited from Spock was closer to one of pain than Kirk was comfortable with.

 

“You can’t just do that.” Jim kneaded the muscles of the tense back before him and leaned forward to lovingly mouth between shoulder blades. “You need to let yourself adjust, go slowly.”

 

“Last night… I did not go slowly. Why did you say nothing when I hurt you?”

 

“You didn’t hurt me. I’d done this before, remember? This is your first time, you don’t know how to relax the muscles right. I’m sure it feels really weird.”

 

“It is indeed a sensation I am unaccustomed to,” he said, voice strained. Spock fought to regain enough control to ease the tension in his muscles.

 

Once Kirk felt the grip around him relax, he slid out a few inches and, angling just so, softly glided back in. Spock shuddered and pushed back. Taking this for a good sign, Kirk pushed in again, aiming resolutely for the sensitive bump. Spock moaned and rocked into the sensation.

 

The pattern continued, Kirk slowly increasing the speed of his thrusts, and Spock growing steadily louder. The room filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, moans, and the soft smacks of skin slapping together.

 

When Jim knew that his climax was imminent, he reached below Spock to grasp the dangling member, pumping the swollen flesh in time to his thrusts.

 

Each time the tightly gripping hand squeezed the sensitive head, Spock cried out, “Jim!” loudly enough that Kirk feared that someone in hall would hear. Suddenly, Spock arched and went rigid, muscles tensing as he came with a final shout.

 

Kirk tapped his hips forward into the exquisite rhythmic squeezing around his shaft until he too came undone, spilling his seed deep into Spock. Fighting not to simply go limp and fall onto his partner, Jim smoothly pulled his softening cock from the confines of Spock. Gently, he guided them to lie down, side by side. Together, they basked in the afterglow and caught their breath.

 

\---------

 

Nearly twenty minutes passed while the captain and first officer simply laid with limbs tangled together, foreheads touching, and breathed in the air scented with each other. Vulcan hands were running over human skin, caressing a rounded ear, when Jim started chuckling. An arched eyebrow questioned him.

 

“Sorry, just thinking to myself about how nothing of the past day met my expectations in the best of ways. Like, you didn’t want to kill me after your pon farr ended… You turned out to actually interested in me romantically…” He laughed again. “And I _certainly_ didn’t expect you to be so vocal in bed.”

 

“Undeniably, you are very adept at drawing illogical responses from me; you have an unparalleled talent for thwarting my mental shields, without which I find I am exceedingly and indecently expressive.”

 

“I’d apologize for ripping your Vulcan control to shreds, but I’m not really sorry that I get to see you this way.” Kirk pressed closer. “As much as I love and respect you, exactly the way you are every moment of every day, I can’t help but feel privileged to see _all_ of you.” Spock’s grip tightened slightly, holding Jim even closer. “Hmmm… and speaking of _all_ of you,” his voice deepened into a suggestive tone, “I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting your cock to be so human-like. I guess I just assumed that it would vary a little in shape or something, like most species do.”

 

“My… _shape_ … is the result of my human heritage. It is the only trait in which my mother’s DNA proved to be dominant.”

 

“I see. Meh, whatever, the Vulcan penis shall remain a mystery, but I get _yours_ ,” Kirk gently stroked the relaxed appendage in question, “and that’s the best one of all.”

 

“… You are most illogical in your assessment.”

 

“Nah, just biased.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations! You survived the cheesefest!
> 
> To celebrate: review, flame, masturbate, whatever.
> 
> Until next time!


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